


In Broad Daylight

by InkStainsOnMyHands



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: All romance is one-sided or implied, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Small Town, Crimes & Criminals, Detectives, Dialogue Heavy, Domestic Violence, F/M, Gun Violence, Hate Crimes, Interrogation, M/M, Murder Mystery, No clear resolution, Who Done It?, underage marriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-15
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:07:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25288801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InkStainsOnMyHands/pseuds/InkStainsOnMyHands
Summary: Over forty-five people witnessed Garrosh Hellscream's murder.No one came forward to point out the killer among them.
Relationships: Anduin Wrynn & Varian Wrynn, Anduin Wrynn & Varok Saurfang, Anduin Wrynn/Zekhan, Baine Bloodhoof/Anduin Wrynn, Garrosh Hellscream/Anduin Wrynn, Wrathion/Anduin Wrynn
Comments: 11
Kudos: 35





	In Broad Daylight

**Author's Note:**

> Garrosh is not a nice person in this fic - like at all. He is irredeemable. Heed the tags. And, if you really liked his character pre-MoP, this might not be the story for you. 
> 
> Based on the murder of Ken Rex McElroy. The title for this fic is taken from a book on the case, "[In Broad Daylight](https://www.amazon.com/Broad-Daylight-Crime-Rant-Classics-ebook/dp/B008J7CNGU/ref=tmm_kin_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&qid=&sr=)". If you like murder mysteries, Sundance did a 6-part series titled "[No One Saw a Thing](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/No_One_Saw_a_Thing)" on the case.

The distant, tell-tale crunching of tires treading over gravel urged Varian Wrynn’s steel eyes to flicker forward. From the kitchen window, he found an Azeroth county sheriff’s vehicle rolling to a stop on his driveway. _Finally,_ he thought, heart dropping into the pit of his stomach, _they’re here_. 

Before Varian could turn off the water pouring into his sink, the _thump, thump, thumps_ of frantic footsteps reverberated above him. He took a deep breath through his nose and exhaled it through his mouth; it did little to soothe his mounting frustrations. One day, he hoped Anduin would lose that youthful impulsivity cursing him to commit acts of idiocy, especially in the name of love. 

Fortunately, Varian had a head start. By the time Anduin, weeping and quivering, reached the foyer, his father blocked him from exiting their home. The eighteen-year-old hadn’t inherited his father’s immense build and strength, but he was fast and cunning. He attempted a feint in an effort to worm around his father, and it would have worked had Varian not anticipated the maneuver. 

Twin hands gripped the lean meat of Anduin’s upper arms. “Listen to me -” Varian began, staring into his son’s bruised eyes. 

“No, no, please, don’t go with them!” Anduin sobbed. His split lip trembled.

  
  
“Anduin,” Varian warned, choking off any dissent from his boy. “You keep your mouth shut. Call our lawyer. Meet him down at the station. Understand? I’m going to go with them, _voluntarily._ ”

  
  
Anduin didn’t have a chance to respond. Three loud knocks echoed from their front door.

* * *

Garrosh Hellscream had been a thorn in Varian’s side for the better part of two decades. Before Varian’s ascent into the mayoral office of Stormwind, they often clashed on the backroads between their small towns, repeating a sick, toxic cycle: Garrosh would be accused of a crime. Varian arrested Garrosh for that crime. Although indicted, Garrosh’s lawyer would find some way to acquit him. Back to square one. 

“That must have been frustrating for you,” the human detective seated across from Varian murmured. 

_Ah, so they’re in the “deflection” phase of the interrogation_. _Makes sense_. The detective’s sagging skin and graying hair spoke to a certain level of experience in the field. Thus, as a presumably seasoned interrogator, this strategy _would_ be in his repertoire. An admirable endeavor to appeal to Varian’s ego, but a fruitless venture in the end. _Nice try_. 

“But it all came to a boiling point when he touched your daughter, didn’t it?”

  
  
“Son,” Varian barked. The single word - the only word he had uttered since arriving at the station - rang around the frozen concrete walls of their cramped room.

  
  
To the detective’s credit, he appeared mildly abashed by the correction. “Sorry, your son. But that doesn't make much of a difference, does it?” The detective shrugged. “Excuse my phrasing, but Garrosh thought he was tailing a pretty, young girl, the kind of girl he’s used to forcing on his arm. I mean, we all know it was by the Light’s good grace he _just_ roughed up your kid. But what was to stop him from doing something worse later? Right?” 

“I’ll tell you,” the second detective, a young sin'dorei, said from the opposite corner of the room. He leaned against the wall with his arms crossed over his slim chest, appearing for all the world to be nonchalant. Varian knew better. The quickness of his breathing, the twitching of his muscles, the constant need to adjust his position, the former sheriff caught it all. “A daddy with a gun finally having the courage to do what other fathers in this town failed to do: protect their kids from that monster.” 

The first detective snorted. “Yeah, Anduin would have made, what, wife number five now?”

  
“Just about.”

  
  
Varian worried his bottom lip in an effort to keep a rumbling snarl from reaching his muzzle. These men spoke as if Garrosh’s evil deeds were simply fodder for small town gossip. They never witnessed these girls - and they were just little girls - scurrying in the shadows, hiding their bruises and protecting their round bellies, unable to escape an abusive marriage their parents traded them into. These children were sacrificial lambs, handed off to shield the rest of their family from Garrosh's various criminal campaigns. Campaigns Varian _failed_ to stop in spite of his political power and influence. 

The human detective leaned forward. The scent of stale coffee on his tongue sickened Varian as he whispered, “See, Varian. We don’t see you as a murderer. We see you as a hero. And so will the court if you cooperate with us.”

  
  
“We already have enough evidence against you,” the sin'dorei added. “We’re only here to give you a chance to confess as a favor to you and your family. To help you out.”

  
  
Varian, unable to stop himself, spat, “What’re you talking about? You don’t have one piece of credible evidence on me.” 

  
The two detectives stared at him, slack-jawed and wide-eyed at his outburst. Varian made a vain attempt at not taking predatory delight in the weakness he exposed.

  
  
The second detective growled, “We have the .22 lever rifle that was found in _your_ truck, Varian. And the .22 gauge casing found at the crime scene.”

  
  
“We’re a farming community!” Varian snapped, leaving the word “moron” implied at the end of his quip. “Everyone uses that same gun to dispatch nuisances off their property. Hell, my son could hit a rabbit from a hundred yards away with that thing by the time he was nine. And I don’t think I need to remind you that over forty people, all with their own rifles, were at that parking lot the day Garrosh died.”

  
  
The first detective’s nostrils flared. “If not you, then who? Of all the people there, who shot him?”

  
  
Varian shrugged his shoulders before asking if his lawyer had arrived yet.

* * *

“Start from the beginning.” 

Jaina Proudmoore’s expression soured. How many times must they hear the same story? She already made her statement on three separate occasions in the last forty-eight hours! Why did they need to pull her into the station to recount it _again?_

_Unless, this time, you’re a suspect. You are in an interrogation room, after all._

Jaina glanced about the sharp corners of her stark white cage. Yes, that’s about right - and about time. She sipped from her paper cup, shrugged, and began, “Once we heard Garrosh had been bailed out of jail, after committing a hate crime no less, Varian called an emergency city council meeting. All of Stormwind and Orgrimmar convened and -”

“Now,” the detective (Dennis? Derek?), who sat astride Jaina, interrupted. He leaned against the back of his chair. “Mr. Wrynn is the mayor of Stormwind. What’re people from Orgrimmar doing in Stormwind’s chambers?” 

A sigh puffed passed Jaina’s slanted lips. “Our towns are separated by a single creek, Detective, and word travels fast. Despite the bad blood between our two communities, the one thing we could always agree on was Garrosh.” 

“And why was that?” 

_Seriously? Is three times not enough?_ Jaina raised an eyebrow in the detective’s direction. In turn, he made a gesticulation with his hand for her to continue. “He was a bully. He stole livestock and equipment from _both_ towns. Intimidated anyone who got in between him and something he wanted, human _or_ orc, kaldorei _or_ tauren. Married all manner of girls half his age only to leave them once the next one came along. He threatened to destroy the Bloodhoof General Store, and he damaged _my_ library for charging his child a twenty-five-cent late fee. He…” Rage strangled her, cutting off her words. 

After a moment, the detective supplied, “... assaulted your nephew.” 

Jaina released a breath and nodded stiffly. “In broad daylight,” she hissed. “For having the audacity to identify as a man! Garrosh’s ego couldn’t handle mistakingly catcalling a boy in public, so he pummeled him right outside of the movie theater, in front of everyone. And they were all so afraid of Garrosh, none of them tried to stop that bastard. They couldn’t.” 

Jaina slammed her hands down on the metal table before her. The vibrations echoed, loud and true, around the concrete closet. Her palms soaked the stinging feedback, easing her wrath a tad. “By the Light, if _Anduin_ wasn’t safe from Garrosh, who was? Everyone loved Anduin. Treated him as their own.” She shook her head. “No, no. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: I’m glad he’s dead. Maybe now, we’ll breathe a little easier.” 

The detective nodded. “It’s funny you say that,” he started, tilting his head. “Because _you_ also followed the crowd to the bar Garrosh was drinking at, right?” 

  
Jaina suppressed the urge to guffaw in the detective’s face at the insinuation. “If I’d have killed him, and I wish I had to protect my _nephew_ , I would not have used a gun.” She waved her fingers in the direction of her water cup, where the tips of small, but sharp, icicles sprang over the rim. “And if you have any more questions, I’ll need my lawyer present first.”

* * *

The moment detectives stepped onto Genn Greymane’s porch, they were met with resistance. Through his screen door, the old wolf snarled, “I didn’t see a thing. If you want to question me, you’ll have to arrest me first.” 

And that was that.  
  


* * *

“Baine, you’re a pretty tall guy,” Detective Glowsun drawled. “You must have seen something over everyone’s heads, right?” The probe was as invasive as it was passive. As well, the palm resting upon Baine’s shoulder felt far from comforting despite the gentleness of the gesture. 

  
Baine Bloodhoof shook his head. “No. As I have stated before, I saw the bullet go through Garrosh’s back window. Then, I dropped to my knees to protect myself, as I wasn’t sure where the shot came from or who the intended target was.”

  
  
Glowsun released air through his nostrils. He nodded once. “I know that’s not true, son,” he replied with all the disappointment of a father catching their child in a lie. “The whole town was there to get rid of Garrosh. You said it yourself, you heard Varian Wrynn threaten Garrosh’s life.” 

  
  
Baine repressed the urge to huff at the elf; he grew exhausted by how important details seemed to escape the sin'dorei. Each time he supplied further context or clarification to his answers, it felt as if he were plugging up holes in a sinking ship. 

“No, I did not say Mr. Wrynn threatened Garrosh’s life,” Baine insisted, voice sharper than intended. “Miss Whisperwind had accused Mr. Wrynn of not acting swiftly enough in Anduin’s best interest after his assault. Mr. Wrynn replied that had Garrosh still been free when he discovered what had happened to his son, _he_ would be the one sitting in a jail cell.” 

  
Detective Glowsun withdrew his hand from Baine “And what would that be implying?”

  
  
The detective’s condescension did not earn him any more of Baine’s favor. “That Varian would have killed Garrosh,” the tauren sighed before insisting, “But that was not a threat of a future confrontation.”

  
  
“Oh?” Glowsun’s raised eyebrows betrayed his disbelief, if performatively. “Then why did the crowd get whipped up into a mob?” 

Baine’s molars ground together. The back of his skull began to throb.“The crowd only became a mob after Mr. Fairwind announced he had seen Garrosh drinking at the local bar, and he had a pistol on him. That was a cause for alarm, as we all knew what he was planning to do.” 

“And what was that?” 

_Was it not obvious?_ “Kill Mr. Wrynn,” Baine answered, matter-of-fact. 

Detective Glowsun jerked back an inch and one of his elegant eyebrows quirked ever higher. “Mr. Wrynn? Why not Anduin? He was the one that embarrassed him.” 

_Garrosh embarrassed himself,_ Baine wanted to snap. But that was not his fight to have. “Garrosh threatened to murder Anduin’s family in front of him at the time of his arrest -”

Detective Glowson interjected with, “- and you were there at the movie theater to witness that?” 

“Yes,” Baine said, though bemusement colored the syllable. _Why would that matter?_ And why would it matter enough for the detective to write the fact down? Was it not already in the police report? “We had just finished watching a movie together.”

The corners of Detective Glowsun’s lips curled into a smirk. That sent something heavy and cold into the roiling pit of Baine’s stomach. The elf peered up from his notepad. “That’s cute, you didn’t say you were dating Anduin.”

Hot mortification raced through every corner of Baine’s body. His cheeks ached. He trembled. “I-I, what? No! We’re just friends!” 

Glowsun shook his head. “See, I don’t think you’re telling me the whole truth, and I’m starting to believe it’s because you’re trying to save your own ass.” 

“What?” Baine screeched. Humiliation quickly boiled into indignant fury. 

“Garrosh sent your dad to an early grave, didn’t he?” Glowsun glowered, bending forward, invading Baine’s space. “The stress of his harassment gave your dad a heart attack. And then, if that wasn’t enough, he assaulted someone you’re fond of, someone you might even have feelings for, right in front of you. Almost killed him, too.” The detective threw his hands up into the air. “Damn, Baine, I get it. How angry you must have been. How helpless. Anyone in your position would have used that mob to their advantage and finally shot the son of a bitch for all he did.” 

Baine’s hands clenched into fists. How dare this man assume his thoughts and emotions? His motivations? He had no right to speak on matters he did not know! 

“I want my lawyer.”

* * *

The door behind Detective Daniels hadn’t the chance to close before Varok Saurfang grumbled, “Will this take long? I have crops to attend to.” Despite the low volume of his voice, his gruff words carried, bouncing around this ...this ...damned empty icebox! _Unnerving._

At first, Detective Daniels seemed determined not to acknowledge Varok’s presence, contributing to the orc’s already vile mood. The nerve of this human! _He_ interrupted _Varok’s_ field day only to ignore him? And, if that were not enough, refused to extend Varok the simple courtesy of looking up from the multitude of files in his hands! 

No. Instead of displaying any semblance of basic respect or decency, Detective Daniels wordlessly took the seat across from Varok’s, scoured through his pages for another moment, then placed the stack of papers atop the metal table between them. “Shouldn’t take long,” the detective finally answered. “We just need to ask you a few questions about the...incident that took place.” 

_Spirits-damned city folk. Rude. The lot of them_. 

Varok scoffed. “What? Are you bringing the entire town in for questioning now?” 

“Might have to,” Detective Daniels sighed. That small exhalation spoke volumes in terms of the progress the law had made in the case. 

Pity _almost_ took root within Varok. Almost. “Even if you did, no one saw a thing. It’ll be a complete waste of time.” 

“Oh, I don’t think so,” Daniels argued in a casual manner, as if he spoke about a difference in metaphysical philosophy. “I think I’m bound to find someone who loved Garrosh enough to come forward with what they know, even if they’re afraid to talk.” Suddenly, his blue eyes snapped to Varok’s. “And by multiple accounts, that someone sounds an awful lot like you.” 

An aching pang hit Varok in the chest, stealing away the air from his lungs and the bravado from his character. He muttered, “Me?”

  
  
“Yeah, you were the one who taught him to shoot, right?” Detective Daniels pointed out. “The former marksmanship champ passing down the torch, I hear.” 

_Hmm…_ Yes, once, Varok had cultivated some type of affection for Garrosh, and it flourished under a fatherly pride of sorts. But that time passed so long ago, its memory felt as hazy as a distant dream. Only a graveyard remained in that portion of his soul. 

Varok shrugged his shoulder in a noncommittal gesture. “I did what I could for the pup at the time.” 

Detective Daniels nodded to himself. He stroked the whiskers growing along his chin. “But sometimes sick puppies have to be put down, don’t they? Especially when they start biting the new prized dog.”

  
  
Dread, like ice, froze Varok’s veins. He narrowed his eyes, tilting his head. “I don’t catch your meaning.”

  
  
“Anduin Wrynn,” Detective Daniels replied with a strange hardness. Varok had never heard someone utter the sweet lad’s name in such a way. That foreign and unimaginable distaste for the teen added to his sudden distress. “He started volunteering at your farm once your son passed away, is that right?”  
  


The void inside his chest ached at Dranosh’s mention, but Varok schooled his features into remaining neutral. Detective Daniels had no business viewing the inner workings of his heart, _especially_ as it pertained to his son or to Anduin. “That’s right.”

  
  
“And you began to like him, at least enough to become his marksmanship coach.” 

Adrenaline and panic, in equal measure, shot down the length of his spine. Sweat gathered on his brow. His hands curled into tight, quivering balls. “I think I’m done here,” Varok muttered; the urge to flee the room grew exponentially with every passing second. 

“I keep thinking,” the detective continued without remarking on Varok’s request. “...that in order for the crowd not to have seen anything, the shooter must have been pretty far away. It would give them enough of a chance to flee the scene before anyone caught wind of them. But if you think about it, that scenario is kind of remarkable, isn’t it? See, only one bullet was ever fired. The perpetrator only needed one shot to kill Garrosh, and from that far away, it had to be a trick shot.” 

“I said I’m done!” Saurfang shouted, slamming his clenched fists on the table. His rumbling voice echoed back at him; it was frightened, desperate, a thousand miles away from the proud orc he personified. 

Detective Daniels, unruffled, focused his attention on the papers between them. He moved the first one aside to reveal a photo taken at what must have been the crime scene. It featured Garrosh, slumped over his steering wheel, blotches of deep, dark crimson staining his clothes, his seat, his door, his… 

  
Varok trembled. 

“That used to be your protege,” Daniels commented. He shifted the glossy ten-by-ten to the side to reveal another one, taken at a different, but no less ugly, angle. 

“Like it or not, he used to be a kid you cared about.” 

Shift. Another photo. 

“Something terrible happened along the way, but he still didn’t deserve an entire mob to follow him out to that bar that day.” 

_Shift. Another photo._

“Here’s what I think happened,” Daniels began, cool and even. Varok’s gaze darted back to his visage, eager to look anywhere but at the table. “When you thought Garrosh planned to _actually_ kill someone this time, _your_ new protege’s father no less, well, you just couldn’t have that. You felt a responsibility to stop the monster you created. After all, you taught him how to shoot the guns he toted around town. I bet that guilt just ate you up inside for years, and when it finally came time to take justice into your own hands...” 

  
A loud knock interrupted Detective Daniels’ ensuing tirade. Without waiting for an answer, the person on the other side of the door barged in as if they sought shelter from the hounds of hell nipping at their heels. 

“Don’t speak,” the stranger - a red-headed man, dressed in a smart, well-fitted suit - demanded as he pointed to Varok. In Daniels’ direction, he huffed, “My client is done here.”

  
  
Daniels’ features contorted in a tight, almost comical expression. “Who the hell are you?” he shouted.

  
  
(Varok also wanted the answer to that question. The man seemed familiar, but he couldn’t quite place where he had spotted him before.)

  
  
The stranger beckoned Varok to stand with a gesture of his hand. “Mathias Shaw. I’m Mr. Saurfang’s lawyer.” 

Varok opened his mouth to deny the assertion; the last expense his wallet needed was some useless, high-powered attorney. But before he could speak, Shaw said, “Mr. Wrynn paid for twenty hours of my time, and I am donating the rest - if needed. He wanted to make sure his son’s _family_ was taken care of. So, unless you plan on arresting him, we’re free to go, yes?”

  
  
Detective Daniels waved them off with a growl. 

* * *

Mathias Shaw blocked the rest of the investigation at every turn. He acted the part of a well-trained hound, guarding the Wrynns’ personal friends with an animalistic ferocity. And his services were not just limited to those loved ones who resided in Stormwind. Glowsun found Zekhan and Wrathion, Anduin’s _other_ romantic interests, just as protected from their questioning as any other. 

So, when Anduin, of all people, agreed to come into the station for questioning (alone, against Shaw’s counsel no less), it shocked the two lawmen on the case. 

Was it some moral dilemma that compelled Anduin? A crisis of conscience? Fear? Revenge? 

They two detectives did not know, but they appealed to the boy’s infamous sense of peace and justice regardless - to little avail. 

Anduin wore the guise of a helpful witness without actually _being_ helpful. His quiet, monotone, limited-syllabic responses only led Glowsun and Daniels in circles. None of his answers had a tinge of dishonesty to them, no weakness they could prey upon, but his catatonic mumbling only reinforced the facts they already possessed. 

“Anduin, sweetheart, it’s time to end this,” Daniels finally murmured as he leaned over the kid’s shoulder. “We know you don’t want to implicate someone you love in this. After all, they only did this to protect you and your family. I understand. Believe me, I do. But there’s a reason you want to be here. You know, as well as I do, Garrosh was murdered while he sat half-passed out in his truck, not doing nothing to nobody. _They_ killed him in cold blood, darling. And we need to bring them to justice.” 

At that, life sparked in Anduin’s stunning, yet cold, blue eyes. His gaze flitted to Daniels (who, at that moment, understood why this ethereal beauty had so many adoring potential paramours). “Only the Light can bring justice upon the wicked, detective.” 

* * *

Varian silently waded through a sea of shouting reporters and clicking cameras in order to reach his front door. He had long since given up using “no comment” as a buoy around them. The statement only acted as blood in the water, and these sharks were hungry. 

Anduin fared no better. If anything, earning the role of the hometown darling, through no fault of his own, only placed a brighter spotlight over the poor boy. The media romanticized the story of a beloved damsel in distress being rescued by an admiring vigilante with a rifle. Unfortunately, it turned their once quiet town into the backdrop of some star-crossed tragedy, and at the center of it was young, pretty Anduin - the only known player in this performance. 

(A television movie based on the case was in production). 

  
Regardless of his unwanted celebrity, Anduin appeared _happier._ His dazzling smile returned as the ugly marks on his pale skin faded. Rather than floating from room to room like a specter, he _zoomed_ around the house with unbridled teenaged energy. To Varian's ultimate relief, their nights were no longer marred by insomnia or screams. At last, the true Anduin Wrynn returned to his father after several long, painful weeks.

  
  
All that was left for the Wrynns to do was wait until the media attention died down, and with it, their town’s shared secrets. In the meantime, they cuddled on the couch and watched the spectacle from afar.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos fuel me. This was only lightly edited, so please point out any mistakes you might find. 
> 
> You can find me most anywhere under @faequill. Please talk to me...I'm lonely.


End file.
